Vast Symmetry
by InTheWorseWay
Summary: "So come along. Just you, me, and Shadowmere." Listener/Cicero
1. Chapter 1

"Now breath, child."

"Yes, Master."

Sigyn Gray held in a deep breath, her hands folding over her crossed lap. With hues smothered and thoughts blinded she would stare off over the never ending of white mountains; the sun now taking it's places in the heavens of the sky. She let off that same breath that she has held in to only repeat the process again. She had to center herself, control that anger that mortals such as herself would fear.

"How do you feel?" Her master touched her shoulder, a ghost of a smile touched his pale lips. And she would straighten her back under his touch.

"Better." Her eyes fluttered, unfolding her arms to embrace the gale that swarmed around them; brushing up and harassing the virgin snow of untouched feet. "I didn't mean to get so mad in the first place- Master." The blue tint in her eyes softened as she finally found the nerve to look up at the Greybeard. There was a slight quiver in her tone, though she held true to her emotion.

"No." Arngeir gestured for her hand, watching his young student rise to her feet. "You were upset. Children of your age, that is rather common." She took his hand to rise along with her Master. Through guilt she could only stare down at her feet, shifting away from his glance. "I only tell you this because you are not like the rest of your generation." Both of his palms was now resting on equal shoulders of the small child.

She stood in question, silence drawing near. Though she clenched her small fists to her sides to inhale her breath just to take the chance in affection. She lashed out at her master, wrapping her arm's securely around his waist as her head pressed against the bottom of his rib cage. Just to let those tears stream down her delicate face. "I'm so sorry, Da."

His hand patted her back, embracing her back. "It is alright, my Dragonborn." The snow was crushed underneath their footing and Arngeir was the first to pull away from her just to let her catch her own breath.  
He was guiding her back into the building, leaving the courtyard.

"Master."

"Yes?"

"Will I ever be able to play with the rest of the children down in the village? Someday?" She spoke in hush tones as his hand withdrew contact from the entrance of the door to connect to the never ending halls.

"Someday, my child. Someday."

**-x-**

She was twenty now, a shell of a woman that only appeared on the lines of a monk. Her blonde cascaded down her shoulders which was tided together with her red ribbon. The striking feature of tumbling ocean color that was tucked away in her hues. She seemed sickly skinny, lanky, and to pale for some men, unattractive with not enough birthing hip.

Oh no, she wasn't ugly. Far from it. It was just she was to short, and it was her thinness that threw them off. Plus, being a Breten in a Nord's world could have it's downside. A Dragonborn was a Breten? No one would respect that, and if they knew of who she was they would spit in her direction. _'How dare she proclaim herself as the Dragonborn. An honor is only fit for a well respected son of Skyrim! Not some malnourished, rawboned Breten woman!'_

And what did Sigyn Gray honestly think about the opinion of some sexist drunk? Certainly nothing, and if she did you could never tell by simple words. She hardly never spoke, silence being the key point in what she was taught to only be saved up when she would use her power to throw them off a mountain. It was just the glint in her eyes, and how the color changed from soft, to hard with no hidden guilt.

"So what's a lovely lass doing in a place like this?" The ale was thick on his breath, a little to close for her comfort. As his shoulder pressed close to her's, she'd shrug him off. Placing the rim of the glass back up against her lips to take in the light wine. "Aye, a feisty one. Trust me lass no need to be afraid of me." The dark air Nord man began to slide up her thigh, though unlike any female of getting simply mad, or fall into the illusion of love for the night; she brushed his hand away so that she could finish her drink.

"Shy?" The man's thick chest rose to bellow his laugh, intoxicating her air space with his thick drunken passion. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, letting her glass tip over to spill the rest upon the old wooden floors. "Feisty and clumsy?" He squeezed her tighter into his space.

She took the chance, as her hand reached for something leather to only be quickly placed into the wooden table. The dagger of her's sticking into the table, though her eyes never changed, and she didn't spare him with her time he backed away, eyeing her evilly. Letting his words muffle in the music of the pub, "Bloody bitch."

And she would continue to keep drinking whatever was left in her sad cup. Eyes painted glossy and unreadable. Sinking into her chair from the corner of the pub, prying and listening to the Whiterun rumors that the barmaiden would loudly blab. "Ye heard me right, boy." The Pub-maiden leaded against his counter-top. "Strange fellow, a merry man. Seriously? There hasn't been a fool in Skyrim since a hundred years."

The Maiden swooped her washcloth across her counter. Shaking her head with a giddy laugh. "Felt bad for the wee-man. He vented his wagon wheel is stuck. None helpin that man. Sorta creepy, say's he's taken his mother somewhere else."

"So he's still out there?" Sigyn leaned in close to listen to the bickering of sick played tongues.

"Aye, Been out there since this morn. None has bothered to help him. He's North of here ya know? Loreius Farm- that bitter man refuses to help him. I say, why not? Much better to help him now then to let him sit out there in front of your home all day. Am I right?"

Sigyn rose from her spot, gaining a odd expression from the bar-maiden though simply nodded her farewell as she opened to the bar door's to leave. Though you can call it curiosity, Sigyn herself was desired to know why no one wanted to help a fool out?

"Agh! Bother and befuddle! Stuck here! Stuck! My mother, my poor mother. Unmoving. At rest, but too still!" The said man of the name of Cicero, struck the side of his wagon with his curled shoe. He would push and struggle against the mud, though the friction was causing him to slide with no budge of the wagon.

You would call it humor as Sigyn stood there, with no pleasure to her lips. He jolted to her appearance and waved her down. Bemused by the Imperial's motives. "Ah Stranger! Yes you!" Sigyn began to drive closer to the wagon and the demented madman that would scream for her, pleading almost."

She still said nothing, only guiding her horse to the location close enough. Gripping onto the ropes of the beast. He'd stare at her, a flash smile then sudden range over her silence. He'd throw up her hands comically. "Poor Cicero is stuck. Can't you see? I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse! She's quite dead. I'm taking mother to a new home. A new crypt. But- Aggh! Wagon wheel! Damnedest wagon wheel! It broke! Don't you see?" He approached Sigyn closer, just to get a rise from the smaller female.

Silence again.

He'd turn away from her in a lost cause, "No one want's to help poor Cicero!" Leaning his weight back against the wagon. "Cicero is so sorry mother! Unkind people that show mother such disrespect!"

Sigyn rounded the front of the wagon, taking the ropes of her horse to tie it to the front of the wagon. Placing one foot on the saddle from the side, she hoist her own weight up. The horse bucked again the extra weight, with Cicero in a panic. "Girl! What are you doing!" He tugged against the side of Sigyn's horse.

The wagon was beginning to budge from the muck and caked mud around the rim of the wheel. Leaving Cicero's horse to follow along with Sigyns. The show finally causing Cicero to realize and back away from the solving problem. The batted mud that was kicked up from horse shoes tainted the hem of Sigyn's dress and the coat of her white mare.

But the wheel clasped with pressure of the crust of soil and the pulling effect. Sigyn bit her lip, to inhale that soothing calm. She placed her finger to her lips, squinting in disbelief over the display. The madman helping her off of her horse, "No use, kindly stranger!" Her auburn fixed on her squinting eyes.

Then her haze would stare up at the hill of the farm. Loreius Farm. "He refused to help poor Cicero! Asked him before the kindly stranger came around!" He'd dance around her, the stunning sight as she nodded her head.

Though whatever, since that day baffled Cicero on how Sigyn persuaded the bitter farmer to come down with tools. She staggered down the hill with sweet smile, and a silent approach. The farmer scoffed though bent down to fix the wheel, with Sigyn standing near till the work was done.

He tried to offer his coin, though she only pushed it away. She bid him goodbye with a simple nod.

* * *

A/N:Now begins the awkward events of this pairing. Which will hold random events. Please Review, it would be kind.

O/C;Dragonborn: **Name:** Sigyn Gray (Sea-gun Gray) Sea for nickname on some chapters. Age: **First part: **10 **Last Part: **20 **Hair: **Blonde **Eyes: **Blue/Gray **Specials: **Silver-Tongued, Archery. **Birth/Family: **Found in a box that the Graybeards would get offerings from; calls Arngeir, Da. **Voice: **She's silent most part, though may use several words. More into action then speech since she spent her childhood with the Greybeards.

**Cicero's age: **32

**Rating**: M


	2. Chapter 2

She was quiet, to quiet..

It bothered him, in fact it bothered him so bad that the very thought of murder would be more pleasing to the senses. He's pictured it himself, almost like a sick fantasy of romance. First he thought about wrapping his gloved hands around her neck, listening to the caught air stuck in her throat. She would struggle underneath his grasp; possibly kissing her on the forehead and thanking her for being the best kindly stranger of all the land.

Second, he came across the idea of slowly stabbing his dagger into her side so that she wouldn't die the fist time the metal made contact with her skin, that soft pale silent flesh. He'd sit there with her, combing the crimson matted hair out of her face just to remind her how beautiful she was to him. Then let the russet liquid drain from her being; bleeding to death. She would make sounds of cries and gasps, though she would still probably not speak under the pressure.

Lastly, it would be a free range. Possibly when she is bathing in the lake or when she is sleeping that angelic little head of hers. He would want to look at the mess of blonde curls that draped all over the pillow or spill across her breast; truly his listener deserved the best. He just assumed to kill her when she least expected it.

Silence is what drove the Jester to question the man in his head, _'Now, now. It would possibly be the best! Think of all the small sounds she would struggle to muffle out. And that darling little twinkle of fear she would have in her eyes.' _And the man would protest in his crazed mind that it was her smile and mellowed hue of eyes that stopped him unlike the rest.

Her hand would rest against his, tapping him to come to life. He wasn't paying attention to the enviroment around him now. He was off in his own little world now until he caught sight of the Breten that was pushing him to wake up. "Is there anything I can do Listener?" With a quick of a snap he was on his feet to please her. Though she only shook her head to only point down the trail they were traveling down.

_'If only she would ask, to question his play of words.'_

She guided him to the side of Shadowmere, and he would grab the ropes of the demonic eyed horse. And in response of the beast he would buck his head towards Sigyn. She ignored the signs as she walked side by side with Cicero.

Even if he wished to kill her, to adore her, to hear her yell out his name in plain horror. He couldn't. He must not! He shall not. For she trusted him far to greatly, tis the only reason she kept that little Fool alive. Even though he yelled at her,laugh,cried,begged,shook her. She remained to stay, to cross untouched paths that she was never supposed to pass.

He would attempt to touch her, not to harm her in these actions. Oh no, it was a dreading feel. He had become so obsessed over his Listener that he would protest if she tried to travel the world alone. Even growing the habit to watch over her when she slept at night, trailing his gloved hands down her exposed neck while she slept; trying his best not to stir her from her sleep.

He watched the binding around her chest grow tighter against her breast with every breath she took. She slept on her back, with her hands plastered over her head. The typical lay of full curls would cover her pillow, leaving a few strands to lay across her bounded breast. Her cheeks flushed while she slept.

Though he would only play on those actions when the man in his head told it was alright to feel this way, to long to dominate her, gather her in his hands, make her stop breathing from under his weight. Those conversations in his head were the best.

When she prepared their tent for tonight; he watched her. She'd glance over once or several times over to the Jester with the straight bemused glint. She would smile in response over his maddening glare, his cheerful outlook that she never seemed to understand. Beckoning over with a small wave with her wrist to call him into the tent with her for the night.

As keeper he helped her untie the leather that bound her body within the Dragon armor. Plucking and slowly weaving out the leather strands. Placing her helmet against her bedroll; where the rest of her clothing was soon to follow. Only leaving her in her chest binding and the wool leggings to sleep in for the night, the only thing she would sleep in.

She began to unpack Cicero's bedroll to place it to the other side of hers. Next on her task she began to prepare the two dinner, while fetching Showmere an apple she always packed just to settle in her hunger or for any reason in that matter.

After everything in silence. It was time for bed. It was around the time Cicero would sit up from his side, and began his practice; the odd sensation of wanting to touch her.

He bit the finger index of his glove to pull the leather glove off his hand, so that his bare skin made contact on her sleeping bare form. First they would trail down the sides of her puny arms, then back up in a soothing motion. Feeling the heat realise from her sleeping frame. His upper half leaned over hers so that he could get a better listen to rhythmic breathing.

'Something different? Something different.' He thought, and he pulled it out of his memory banks before he was a Jester and was still a mere assassin of the time.

He leaned down just to touch, or brush his lips against hers. She began to stir over the weight that he did not realize he was adding on her. Quickly pulling away before she woke up to what was happening, ruining the surprise he feared every time she went to sleep. Then he breath settled again, leaning against her side this time. Her hand's folding together, her curls following her skull.

He limbed over to his side, finally considering with this brush effect that he should finally capture sleep. He leaned on her side, just to watch her face. Folding his arms up underneath his head.

Sadly, and he didn't know why he felt sadness over the derange mocking madness that he felt, or shear bliss. He would hear nothing. She was only the lovely Listener, and not a speaker.


	3. Chapter 3

They didn't respect her, and she could honestly tell. Though they bluntly didn't respect him, and that wasn't hidden.

Sigyn Gray walked into something strange, something new. Well, being the new recruit of the black hand they assure you everyday would be a new seen; how graphic it may be. Though nothing disturbing today, to her very luck. The young female pulled her hood down to get a better view of the argument that was unfolding.

"But the Night Mother is mother to all! It is her voice we follow! Her will! Would you dare risk disobedience? And surely... punishment?" The small Jester gaze a slow mumbled laugh, portraying on how his mental state could be tested. Resting both hands on his hips over something he found so humorous.

"Keep talking, little man, and we'll see who gets 'punished.'" Though Arnbjorn found nothing funny about the Fool. Though it was nothing uncommon if Arnbjorn didn't like it. The only thing that seemed to please the werewolf would be in fact his wife, or the great sword that he usually threw around to let go of some of his built up steam.

Sigyn began to walk in closer, drawing close next to Astrid who said nothing to her. Only to reply with a small head nod to inform her that she already knew Sigyn did her job that she was told to do.

"Oh, be quiet you great lumbering lap-dog. The man has had a long journey. You can at least be civil. Mister Cicero, I for one am delighted you and the Night Mother have arrived. Your presence here signals a welcome return to tradition." In which Cicero gave a sneer of a smile over towards the said lap dog, which in responses caused the veins in Arnbjon's neck to appear. The moment was thick.

"Oh, what a kind and wise wizard you are. Sure to earn our Lady's favor." Festus nodded, though coughed under the pressure of Arnbjon's harsh gaze.

Astrid drew closer to Sigyn's side. The towering Nord woman would grace the back of Sigyn's with a graceful tap. The moment gave a reason for the Brotherhood to look in their direction as planned. The Jester's eyes fell on Astrids eyes first, then mapped its course to the smaller subject next to her. "You and the Night Mother are of course welcome here, Cicero. And you will be afforded the respect deserving of your position as Keeper." Then Cicero's finally found Astrid's eyes again, responding with a sneer of a smile. "Understood... husband?"

The powerful man could only cross his arm's across his chest, he was certainly not pleased. He left the circle, to only wander towards his room.

"Oh, yes yes yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Cicero halted in a small dance, kicking his legs up that attracted the dirt underneath to give away.

"But make no mistake. I am the leader of this Sanctuary. My word is law. Are we clear on that point?"

"Oh yes, mistress. Perfectly! You're the boss." And the Jester would turn away, back to his luggage and the coffin of great importance.

It was when the rest of the group started to break apart, that Sigyn would realize that she was alone with the madman himself. She watched for a moment, blinking and reviewing everything that seemed to pan out over the deal between the beastly man and the small Jester.

"The boss for now.." She almost didn't catch the last part as she began to approach behind the Keeper. Her head tilted questionably which caused the madman to whip around to greet one of the sisters.

Then his gaze would drop, studying the face of the paled female before him. Gripping the sides of her shoulders she inhaled a great deal of air over her personal space being invaded, and the crashing hug of the random Jester would follow. "Wait, oh wait. I know you! Yes, yes. From the road! Cicero never forgets a face." Picking up Sigyn, her feet barely grazing the floor, though over the lack of privacy she remained silent to only puzzle the poor man.

"Yes well.. You helped poor Cicero! And my mother! But not just my mother. Our mother, hmm? The Night Mother! Oh yes! And you helped me! You helped poor Cicero! You talked to Loreius, got him to fix my wheel! Oh, you may have pleased me, but you have surely pleased the Night Mother. And our mother, she will never forget." He carefully placed her back down on dirt. Rudeness not of common nature she could only simply smile at the man before her.

Ever since that day, give it weeks at time something mocking was in the air. Something wasn't right.

It was when after Sigyn plagued the heart of the woman who wanted revenge. On a lover and an ex-sister.

It was then when she returned home to the Brotherhood that Astrid had a puzzled look upon her face. Her arm's wrapped securely around her chest, the pretty shimmer of mystery has left her eyes. She looked upon Sigyn with hopeless thoughts.

"Yes I know. You killed them. But- We have a more personal problem to deal with."

Sigyn was talked into hiding the coffin of the Night mother, pressing her ear against the stone coffin.

"Are we alone? Yes... yes... alone. Sweet solitude. No one will hear us, disturb us. Everything is going according to plan. The others... I've spoken to them. And they're coming around, I know it. The wizard, Festus Krex... perhaps even the Argonian, and the un-child... What about you? Have you... have you spoken to anyone? No... No, of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing and saying!" Sigyn could hear objects stubble across the room, as in small bit of rage to whoever Sigyn had to spy on. It baffled her. Scared her.

"And what do you do? Nothing! Not... not that I'm angry! No, never! Cicero understands. Heh. Cicero always understands! And obeys! You will talk when you're ready, won't you? Won't you...sweet Night Mother." Sigyn's hands pressed firmly against the stone, careful to where her back would not bump into the unholy matron.

Though a voice, other then madness bent into her ear. A spine-chilling though lovely approach this voice was. "Poor Cicero. Dear Cicero. Such a humble servant. But he will never hear my voice. For he is not the Listener." Sigyn couldn't breath over how betraying this voice was, something as beautiful has never been heard not even with a lullaby of music.

She could hear Cicero also rattle on outside the coffin, "Oh, but how can I defend you? How can I exert your will? If you will not speak? To anyone!"

"Oh, but I will speak. I will speak to you. For you are the one. Yes, you. You, who shares my iron tomb, who warms my ancient bones. I give you this task - journey to Volunruud. Speak with Amaund Motierre." Sigyn turned about in the coffin to read the glowing, dead, departed eyes of the corpus. She tried to claw her way out. desperate in excuse.

"Poor Cicero has failed you. Poor Cicero is sorry, sweet mother. I've tried, so very hard. But I just can't find the Listener." Cicero pressed his hand on the coffin, beginning his way to open the home of the Nightmother.

"Tell Cicero the time has come. Tell him the words he has been waiting for, all these years: 'Darkness rises when silence dies.'" Sigyn could feel hands about her head, tugging her by the loose curls in response caused her fall upon the floor. She held her hands up to Defend herself.

"Wait!" Her eyes snapped, and she finally spoke, uttering the words, ''Darkness rises when silence dies."

His body pressed against hers. Caught between muscle and cobblestone. "Listener." Was all he could say, as his Auburn wanted to break down and cry over all these damned years.

And she finally spoken, which was only short lived.


	4. Chapter 4

The crimson was soaking through. Careless in actions as he looked up at her in shame. Her lips were always bound shut and the obsession of speech possibly grew deeper, more vast as her hues. Though even in the brink of death she was motionless, her eyes emotionless. They did in fact send the best of the best.

He'd shutter as her footsteps grew louder down the cobblestones; her hood pulled back so he could watch the curtain of his life flash closed; ripping the velvet to the new session: The Void.

His breathing was more labored, gripping the wound with his palm while his other gestured him up to sit up in desperate desire. She'd stop by the door frame, the light from the hall radiating the ghostly pale light that silhouetted her sickly thin body. Her eyes were simply studying him and his eyes did the same. Watching her draw out the dagger from her hilt, gliding the metal sound out as it was finally undone.

She was a silent ballad, as the dagger balanced between the tips of her fingers. He knew she wasn't skilled in one-handed approach; maybe he could talk the foolish one out of the deal, offer something to her liking. Though the begging was lost, and the illusion of blonde sunshine bounced off the tumbling ocean of her unruly, curly locks.

"If it's any comfort, I do feel slightly bad about Veezara. Stupid lizard got in my way! But please tell me that hulking sheepdog has bled to death." She didn't flinch to his word play, her orbs never flash certain humor that she always showed, instead she gripped the leather of the dagger even tighter, her knuckles dulling to the grip.

"And now we come to the end of our play. The grand finale." It was hopeless, though he felt the bitter remembrance of a laugh slide pass his bruised lips. He's even lost his beloved Jester hat over the trail over here. To find his own home; sadly leaving his beloved mother behind. Maybe she'll forgive him when he passed on by the Listener's actions.

She finally made it to the tip of the stairs, staring at her ocean uprising. As professional as she seemed to be through the entire experience. She was waking a devil that she planned to leave behind, oh yes. She was serious, it was for the ground of her brothers and sister's that so easily accepted her, unlike the lonely fool of hearts.

"You caught me! I surrender! Ha ha ha ha. Wasn't that a fun game of cat and mouse, no, no. How about an arousing game of Keeper and Listener." His laughing tore at his insides, though his eyes pleaded the same punishment soon to fall. Powerless. So, weak.

She remained silent, figures he'd assume. As he muttered and coughed he could feel his lungs clasping with every desperate breath. "Oh, you prefer to listen, eh? Of course, of course! The Listener listens! A joke! A funny joke! I get it. Then listen to this - don't kill me. Let poor Cicero live! I attacked the strumpets Astrid, I did! And I'd do it again! Anything for our mother! Return to the pretender, tell her I'm dead! Tell her you strangled me with my own intestines! Ha ha! But lie! Yes, lie! Lie, and let me live!"

Sigyn began to raise her blade, and the glint of satisfaction and dormancy upon her snow, paled cheeks. Cicero's auburn hues lit up with a pleasing smile, then knelt his head down to receive the blow. Death- was taking longer then he assumed.

He could see the Ghost that followed her; tower next to her. He also took in the dreaded silence, illuminating the blue glow; much like a moon to the sun. He'd whisper a few words into her ear which only caused Cicero to close his eyes in wait.

The dagger never fell upon soft skull.

The dagger instead protruded from between the cobblestone works. And he watched the Breten knelt down with a dawning, saddened smile. She'd rummage to pick out several items from her rucksack.

One being a healing potion that she brewed to perfection by herself.

The second being his lonely Jester's hat she must have found while defending herself from the ghost the seemed to leave him at bay.

The third was her drawing finger close to her lips, "Shh." A secret she left; and she would lie for him. Without much help except for the healing potion she left, she picked up her dagger and hauled her rucksack with her. Leaving the grounds that Cicero laid upon. THe Ghost following her out of the doors.

He finally slept, _'Mother will be fine.'_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Current time.**_

"Dancing, eh?" Babette baffled by the Listener and the Keepers sudden approach. She shook her head, "Do I look like a dancer, fool? I swear- And you to Listener? Gods." She couldn't help but to roll her eyes as the two drew near her, both hands extended outwards to grab her.

The Listener was the first to hoist the unchild into the hair, her lips drawing in the slow music of her feminine laugh; womanly and mature. The fair virgin maiden, swayed the unchild around. "Are you daft woman? But me down this instances! Or I'll swear to cut off all your hair for my potions." The 300 year old child would blush under the sweet aroma of Sigyn's skin and the pressure she had on her back as her face was forcefully placed against her shoulder.

Babette could her the encouragement seeped in Cicero's laugh as he began to clap his hands to the unheard music chords. The Listener was spinning in a circle now, which at any moment she could spew her human lunch across her back. The vampire squeezing the life out of Sigyn's arms as she held on for life. "Nazir! Nazir!"

She could hear a clank of pans from the great dining hall and a call of a rusty voice, "Sorry she-devil. It seems I can't hear you over dinner preparations! Perhaps you should seek Sigyn and Cicero's help in that aspect for whatever it is you need!" She then could hear his deep, manic voice that chilled with boiling water. She was to receive revenge of course for making him do all the work while she sat back and laughed over construction.

"It's the Keeper's turn Listener! Don't jest with poor Cicero." And like a common fools dance move, she tossed the light unchild over the Jester's arms. Somehow deep within her gut; this was Nazir's doing and teachings. He wrapped his arm's tightly around the child's body, he feet kicking at this point to hit a sensitive spot on his body, if she could reach it with her foot.

The Listener's hands gripped behind Cicero's shoulders so that Babette could get a better view of the woman's face. With her down-to-earth smile and satin ways. Babette at this point could help but to shake her head and settle herself if she was bound to win. She grew limp to the touch, and finally slid from Cicero's grasp.

She eyed them, both smiling like the fools they were. "Don't you ever touch me again!" Babette's fist clenched, even tugging on the fabric of Sigyn's casual dress clothes. The blue fabric bunched up but then was realised as simple as that was.

Babette swaggered down the stairs over the reasons of being tossed around in a random dance. Just a little fun after a few murders. Something to lighten the mood.

Cicero would offer Sigyn his hand in this time, which she shrugged and accepted in such of the said time. They could make their own merry-making even if the unchild wanted nothing apart of it.

**-x-**

"Maidenhood?" Sigyn looked down at her white dress that Arngeir picked out for her. "Da, I'm flattered that you'd bought me such a lovely thing-" She lifted her arm's to gather up the abundance of used white fabric, she knew only a little budge could send her hobbling over her dress train. "But is it really necessary?"

Arngeir gave her a proud smile, "So much to learn of the world child- so little time honestly." He led her out in the courtyard which held sight of nothing but the tiny village at the bottom of the mountain. "You see, eighteen for a woman is supposed to be courting time. For you that's a different story."

"Different story, what do you mean?" The air was sweeping her hair into her face, which she could only block with a palm, glaring at her master with such brimming interest and bold respect.

"Dragonborn knows nothing of such a thing. This is the time where your voice begins to become more powerful. Much like the other Greybeards. You could control it, but being mute would be the most powerful route."

She was taught to hold her tongue that day, maidenhood, adult liking. She would never be apart of it.

No man would stay with silence, no man dared it.

She spent Maidenhood day in meditation alone. If you could call meditation a mental break down of sobbing into the white dress that would only be used for this day. Alone. Untouched. Beauty.

Though she spoke now, soon her thu'um would be to powerful for her own good. Sure, she could speak but only softly and few words in between.


	6. Chapter 6

Her hands folded over her lap, eyeing the stained crimson of the blade. Of course she would frown though shrug her shoulders over the account of work. Taking a damp cloth she held on to the hilt of the dagger, ghostly rubbing the material over the ruin until she could find her reputation in the blade.

It was just gore, and nothing more.

Gore? Now that was not part of the job description she called life; even though she hate to remember it. Dragonborn? And she would frown again over the distant thought that seemed to seek refugee in the recesses of her mind and inner workings.

She would then place the dagger back upon the table to grab another of her deadly toys, repeating the process of cleaning the pattern off that was left from some poor soul.

What would her Da say over her drastic life change? No, that's not the point anymore. She's not that little girl anymore. Innocence has died long ago. Though her lips held that firm frown with her eyes focused so hard on cleansing her own tools.

Over on the opposite side of Sigyn was yet but an inquisitive fool. With his arms propped up underneath his chin to hold his posture. He to was staring blankly at his Listener and the vast and ever-changing, though amusing facial expressions that she would make. Yet, he couldn't put his finger on what she was thinking about.

"You know." Using the most unenthusiastic voice that Cicero has ever worn, "Cicero has heard that if you keep making faces that your face could end up sticking like that."

His draw caused her to stare up from what she was doing. Watching the sides of his lips play off that lazy smirk instead of his painted manic one. Her face fell to her normal expression of unreadable eyes. "Oh?" Was all she could manage to get out, trying not to strain unused vocal cords.

Cicero would nod, "Though that would amuse old Cicero, Listener! It would.. you see? Picture it. Striking fear into our next contract with a frown like that? Ha! Madness, I believe? You are simply to smart for your Fool sometimes." He sat more high. Mumbling almost to himself, though loud enough for conversation. "But Cicero is curious humble Listener."

"Curious?" She wanted to quickly close her mouth, though she knew she had to practice speech since she barely relied on her Thu'um anymore.

"Curious to what the Listener was thinking of course!" He then leaned into the table, hands clenching to the sides to study her features.

With habit upon thinking she quickly touched the scar across the side of her lip to think over this drastic thinking. Her eyes would wander, with a gentle tilt of her head she would then smile upon sworn request. "Aye.." And she placed her hand back in her lap. "Stressed...?"

"More detail Listener."

"Simply.. Stressed." And she held on to that smile.

"Human nature is tricky, we simply don't feel stressed just because Listener. Well to some.. Mind you. Heh. Stress can mean a lot, like.. Your throat being slit, or you ran out of sweet-rolls. Stress is stress. And Cicero know's no stress. Now, I'll ask again Listener. Hah! Why do you feel this stress?" Cicero began to push in his chair, falling in close to Sigyn side of the table. He'd lean his weight against the table, crossing his arm's about his chest.

"Well." Sigyn's hue's squinted, finally growing tired of using this new-found speech that she forced to find. "I.. Think of.. home?" Cicero was becoming daunting to her now. Even if she wished for him to stop staring at her, or using that glint of a grin he has earned. He would simply laugh at her.

"Home, and that's all Listener?" He shook his head, and the rattle of a sloppy laugh bubbled from his lungs. "You are home. Don't you see?" He pushed away from the table edge, his face only inches away from hers. "Home. Yes, home!"

"Life... before.. family." She was having trouble with her words, her throat growing sore under pressure. Her tone lowered in volume just to try to control her Dragon heated words.

"Before family?" His face did not move away from hers'. And she would nod. "Oh.." And his grin began to fade."Cicero believes it happens with time. You forget. Forgive and forget, forget and forgive. Listener you just need to wait. You'll forget like your keeper has! Maybe you too will lose the man in your head just like I have."

As his smile pulled back from its dawn so did her head. Her glare catching the floor of the cobblestone.

His gloved finger tips tapped the bottom of her jaw to remind her to use eye contact. "Sea. Cicero also believes you need to smile more." His lips touched the top of her forehead.

And she would wrap her arm's around him.

Such a daunting fool.


End file.
